Kindness
by someonesayriot
Summary: Nick may not have been the nicest or most caring guy around, he was as aware of that as anyone, but it wouldn't kill him to cut the boy some slack. A few moments of kindness may just prove to be a driving force for a downtrodden survivor.


_A/N: _Oneshot. Rated for mild language. Incredibly vague, underlying Nellis near the start. Just something I wrote up during class one day. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. _-Riot_

* * *

**Kindness**

Nick slowly opened his eyes, looking around the safe house they'd locked themselves in. They must have all dozed off while resting up for whatever was outside that door. The only source of light was a few lone candles they'd found stored in some of the boxes. His eyes took a moment to adjust, still glazed over from sleep, but he managed to see his way around. Coach was sitting up against the material they'd shoved against the door they'd originally come in, snoring surprisingly light. His gun, a lone pistol, was still in his lap, just in case. Rochelle wasn't far off in the opposite corner, curled up in one of the spare blankets, her materials- axe, pipebomb, pills- were lying close to her on the floor. Always "just in case", like every other meaningless precaution they took to try and increase their chance of surviving. In a way, Nick wished they could stay there, safe. But supplies were limited, and he knew they would have to leave eventually.

Outside it was quiet, far more than it had been any other night. Apart from the occasion grumble of thunder or whisper of wind, it was silent. He wasn't opposed to the peaceful silence hanging over their heads, though.

Sighing quietly, he shifted to sleep easier. To his surprise, a light groan came from below him. He frowned, looking down and seeing Ellis. His hat was clutched in his left hand, resting near his face, his head on Nick's thighs, and lightly breathing; barely noticeable through his suit pants. The hick must've sat next to him and fell over after he fell asleep. Nick grumbled, moving to push the kid off of him.

But he hesitated. Although he didn't appreciate Ellis sleeping on top of him, at least he was quiet. If he woke him now, Ellis would throw a fit and curse at him with that damn accent. The calming quiet would vanish faster than a charger could knock all four of them down. That wasn't it, though. Nick knew that this wasn't a regular occurrence, being comfortable and relaxed and not having to worry. Ellis was, at least for the night, at peace, something they didn't get to experience now that everything around them was crashing to an end. It would be cruel to end the peace that they would probably never get again.

Nick may not have been the nicest or most caring guy around, he was as aware of that as anyone, but it wouldn't kill him to cut the boy some slack. They were stuck together for as long as they had to be, after all. A little kindness wouldn't kill this once. Besides; they all needed their sleep. All they knew was that they were heading toward a sugar mill, and who knew what was waiting there. It just would've been too easy to put a gas station closer to town. They didn't know how long it would take, either. They would need their energy if they planned on making it back with gas cans on their backs and a storm on the way.

So Nick let him be. Crossing his arms, he lowered his head and dozed back into sleep.

* * *

Thunder rolled overhead. Eyes fluttering, Ellis woke up with a small snort. Blinking rapidly, his eyes adjusted to the dull light that was coming through the safe room door. He sat up on his elbow, looking around and rubbing his eyes with his other hand. The others weren't awake yet, so it must've still been early. The storm was pulling in faster than they'd expected… Slowly he pushed himself up, dropping his hat back on his head, and stretching his arms out to wake himself up. They had a long day ahead of them if they were going to get anywhere near New Orleans any time soon. They had already spent days walking and driving and try to get away. Of course, Savannah was long out of their sight now, but New Orleans wasn't just a few miles away. With Jimmy Gibb's car out of gas and left behind, the trip was going to be even longer than they originally anticipated. Virgil could only take them so far before he'd have to go back to look for more survivors. Ellis only hoped they would all make it. It wasn't exactly a field of daisies out there in the open.

He jerked suddenly, his fist hitting something warm as he stretched. An angry grunt came from beside him, and a mass of off-white shifted in his peripheral vision. Ellis looked over at Nick, confused. He hadn't realized he'd been so close. The con man sat up slowly, squinting in the light that was coming through the door. He muttered something incoherently, waving his hand near Ellis' face. The southern boy smiled and let a chuckle escape, shoving Nick in the shoulder (something Nick obviously could have done without, judging by the look on his face).

"Sorry, Nick," Ellis said quietly, trying not to wake Coach or Rochelle, who were breathing quietly on opposite sides of the room. All he needed was three people angry at him; at least he knew how to deal with Nick. The other two were too nice to mess around with. "Did I wake ya'?"

"You think?" Nick growled, his voice still a rough grumble from not being used in his few hours of sleep. "What are you doing up anyway? It's too early to go smacking people in the face."

"I just woke up; I thought I heard somethin' outside. I ain't gonna stay asleep if I think a tank or somethin' is gonna come sneak up on us. On top of it, there's a damn storm comin' in out there… expecting me to sleep through the thunder? Nah. An' it's not like I meanta hit ya' or nothin'. Why you sleepin' so close, anywho? Keith an' I were better pals than you an' me, and he never slept that close. Not even when he came over to my ma's place when we were younger." Ellis said, frowning. Nick rolled his eyes, looking away without saying anything. A smirk crawled across the hicks face; since when was Nick speechless? The least he could've done was interrupt the hick while he was telling a story, as he always did. Ellis wasn't going to let him get away with not talking. "Cat gotchur tongue, Nick?"

"No, you're just annoying me, is all," he grumbled, leaning down like he was heading back to sleep. Even if he _wasn't_ annoyed, he would've made a smartass comment about Keith. Ellis punched him in the shoulder. "What the hell was that for?"

"You ain't tellin' me somethin', an' I wanna know what it is. You got a crush on me or somethin'?"

"Hell no," Nick said, a vein popping out on his forehead from irritation.

"Aw, Nick, ya' know I'd be flattered if ya' did… but I ain't a homosexual or nothing, sorry," Ellis said with a grin. Nick threw him a terrifying look, a mix of anger and hatred. Ellis was sure Nick didn't hate him, but he had a feeling he was getting on the fellow survivors nerves a little more than he'd originally anticipated.

"I was just being nice, alright? You're the one who fell asleep on my lap. If anyone 'ain't a homosexual' or whatever, it's me. Might have to worry about you though, Overalls. Sleepovers with Keith? Sketchy…"

"Nuh-uh! First-a all, Keith an' I were good pals. You'd be lyin' if you said you never had yer friends over when you were little. That ain't sketchy. Second-a all, I wouldn't fall asleep on you; you probably pulled me on top. I'd hafta be turnin' into one of them zombies before I did somethin' like that," he challenged. Nick looked away, clearly not believing Ellis.

"Kid, you're about as far in the closet as a person can get."

"Yer just a stupid ol' conman lookin' for yer sick kicks, huh? Torture a kid best ya' can, just for the fun of it?"

"Pretty much. It's not like its hard or anything," Nick said, smirking. Rolling his eyes, Ellis turned away. Nick couldn't help but be pleased; his momentary kindness had changed nothing. Everything was normal; at least everything between the survivors. Some things never change… even if the rest of the world is. Ellis couldn't say he minded too much either, though, even if he was at the butt of all of Nick's comments and jokes. As long as one thing stayed the same, he knew they could tough this whole thing out.

* * *

"Ellis! Hurry up!"

Coach's voice sounded far away. Ellis couldn't tell if it was actual distance, or if the rain was just making it hard to hear. He sure as hell knew a few things about it, though; it was hard to walk through, and it was making it nearly impossible to see. The last time a storm like that blew through Savannah was when Ellis was just a kid. That didn't nearly stack up to this monster, though.

_Christ, is this a hurricane? A hurricane and a zombie apocalypse... what a pair. I sure hope I get to tell Keith and Dave about this one… _Ellis thought, half smiling at the though of sharing crazy stories with his friends again. Back in Savannah at the shop, three pals talking like vets talking about their war stories; and probably showing all the scars to prove it. It hurt to think he'd left all the behind because of a few zombies. At the time, though, there hadn't been much room for other choices.

He wandered forward as fast as he could, dragging his legs heavily through the knee-deep water. Of course he was hurt on top of it all. He felt guilty, slowing his team down. They'd made it so far already; he didn't want to think about not being able to get back to the boat, or if Virgil wasn't there anymore, or all the other ten million things running through the hicks head and he marched along, trying to keep the off-white of Nick's suit in sight.

"I'm comin'," he finally muttered as loud as he could manage, but he doubted that the others could hear him. Each step wore him out more, each minute it seemed like the rain was falling harder. Wounded and carrying a heavy gas tank on his back and heaving an axe every few minutes through a massive storm wasn't exactly how he'd pictured his day going. Then again, he hadn't imagined the world coming to a crashing halt around him either, just a few weeks earlier. If he should have learned anything, it was to expect the unexpected. He just kept dragging through the water and mud, though, keeping his eyes on what he could see of his teammates.

For a moment he looked down to see how deep the water was, a failed attempt since the water was a dark, murky brown; when he looked up, he ran into something solid. He nearly swung his axe before he realized he'd run into Coach, who was stopped in his tracks. Ellis frowned, realizing he wasn't the only one. Rochelle and Nick had stopped too, and said nothing. Confused, he tried to look through them and the rain, strained his ears… it didn't take long to hear a quiet wail not far in front of them. Even through the thunder and rain it was clear, as was the red-orange glow of sad eyes peeking through her thin fingers as she wandered forward.

Silently, Rochelle ushered them back, taking slow steps through the water as not to make too much noise or movement. The bad thing about floods, however, was that it made it hard to see ledges close to the ground.

Ellis stumbled, his right heel catching a curb. He tried to retain his balance, but couldn't stay up through all the water. He fell backward, splashing through the water. He tried to move his arms to catch his fall, but the water wouldn't allow them to stay behind him. His butt and back slammed into the water and then the concrete of a sidewalk, both causing him pain and nearly knocking the gas tank off of him. For a moment his head was stuck underwater, and he couldn't tell if it was dark or if his eyes were closed. He felt like he was spinning, the shock of the cold water against his face confusing and disorientating him. The breath caught in his throat and he unintentionally choked on water; it tasted like dirt and salt, and other things he tried not to imagine. Finally he emerged, sputtering and coughing. Regardless of being temporarily blind and unable to breathe, he felt an arm tug him up and hold him still. The growling that grew louder each second caused him to freeze in place, his coughing and breathing coming to a complete halt. Blinking rapidly, he tried to look around.

"Shh," was all Nick said, standing in front of him, his arm gripping Ellis' wrist tightly. He could see Coach to his left, loading his gun, Rochelle to his right, holding the opposite arm as Nick. Finally those red-orange eyes returned, now facing them straight on. The growling was suddenly louder than the storm.

A piercing scream broke through all the other noise, and she was suddenly closing the distance between her and the survivors, faster than Ellis had remembered one of her kind doing before. His ears were ringing, only further disorientating him. For half a second, he wondered how she was able to move through the flood so fast without falling over. He even felt a pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

The hands of the survivors who were holding him slid away. Gunshots rang out around him. She slammed directly into Nick before Ellis realized that she wasn't after the others. She was after a certain hick who couldn't keep his balance.

Quick as she managed the toss Nick out of the way, Ellis pulled his axe back and swung with the little strength that he had left. It came to a thudding halt almost directly out from his chest, and the loud, feminine scream died out as quickly as it'd started, as if her lungs with deflating with her final death rattle. Ellis breathed a sigh of relief, his body shaking from fear and cold; that's when he felt an intense, burning pain in his stomach. He released his axe and it fell down with the corpse of the witch, slapping against the water, ripping her claws out of his stomach along with it. For a moment there was complete silence as he pieced together what had happened. With a lonely buzz ringing in his ear, he tried to speak and couldn't tell if he succeeded. All he heard was his own shuddered breath. His vision started to blur. He didn't feel himself start to fall, but he felt the warmth of another's arms keeping him from falling into the water again. He grabbed his stomach in pain, and felt only his moist shirt. He wished it was just water, but it was too warm, too sticky for water; the consistency of the blood he'd been spilling since the beginning of the whole damn ordeal. Somewhere in the back of his head, behind the buzzing and pain under his skull, he heard familiar voices saying his name, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything back. He hung his head, still holding his stomach, and closed his eyes. It was quiet again.

* * *

He took in a breath and nearly threw up.

His eyes shot open in shock, and he nearly sat upright but his stomach was numb besides a fiery pain under his skin. He doubted if he could get himself up. He looked around, surprised to see he was in another saferoom. The first one they'd stopped at before getting gas for Virgil. He turned his head slowly, only to discover that his neck hurt like a bitch too; regardless, he was curious as to what was going on. Moving his eyes down, he noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his stomach was wrapped a little too tightly around his abs. At least he knew why he was numb now.

He was also, much to his happiness, dry.

He scooted himself back slowly, sliding his back up against a wall until he was sitting up. His organs felt like they were doing somersaults, and he barely managed to keep himself from puking his guts out from the pain. He looked around. He was on the bottom floor of the room, next to a pile of supplies. Frowning, he strained his ears. No words, but he could hear that the storm was still raging outside.

"Err… anybody here?" He called, quieter than he expected. It hurt to talk, considering it took exhaling to make any real noise. Frowning still, he gently touched the bandages around his middle. He could see dull red marks where blood was still trying to leak through, with no avail against the tightly wound gauze. Five splotches of blood, where the witches claws had dug into him. He wondered if he was bleeding internally, if he would die. Since he was still alive, though, he assumed it must not have been as bad as he thought. Stupid bitch certainly deserved the axe to the head for trying to disembowel him, though. "Wasn't like I menta scare ya', jeez," he muttered to himself, cursing the crying witch.

"Well, well, well. Look who's awake," Nick's voice came suddenly, his body appearing from around the corner at the top of the stairs. "What, couldn't make it up the steps? Poor Overalls," he said with a wry grin. Ellis couldn't help but sneak a smile; although three long, red marks lined Nick's jaw, neck, and collar bone, the hick couldn't lie and say he wasn't happy to see the conman still alive and however well off a survivor could be.

"How long have I been out?" Ellis asked. Nick shrugged, pushing up his sleeve and glancing at an expensive looking watch. Sighing, he took it off and tossed it into a box at the bottom of the stairs.

"All the water broke it. Figures, it was expensive as hell… you've been out for about six hours, I'd say. Maybe more if you include the time we took to clean you, wrap you up, and drag your ass all the way here. You know, you're really not useful when you're passed out," Nick explained. Ellis grinned.

"Most people ain't," he said. Glancing away as Nick walked down the steps, the hick frowned, still holding his hand against the bandages. "Sorry I gotcha all scratched up by that witch. Ya didn't have to try an protect me or nothin', though, coulda done it myself…"

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, look where you are now. If I wasn't there you'd probably be dead. It's fine though, she didn't do anything worse than my ex-wife ever did."

Ellis shot him a small smile, but couldn't seem to hold it. Apart from the burning pain in his stomach and fiery bursts shooting up and down his spine, he couldn't help but feel guilty for being a clumsy oaf and getting himself (and Nick) hurt in the process. Not to mention making his teammates drag his body (which he imagined being terrible, with him being dead weight _and _totally water-logged) back to the saferoom with them; a distance, he remembered, that wasn't exactly small. It was a good four miles between the rooms, not including all of the bodies and wreckage that they had to climb over. A sinking feeling joined the pain in his gut. Out of all of the survivors, he must have been the most incompetent. He hated thinking he was the main source keeping them from finally making it to New Orleans. He sighed, wondering if they felt the same way.

"Still, I'm sorry. An… I think that I should stay here when y'all leave to find Virgil," Ellis suggested quietly. He may have been one less back to help carry gas, but he'd also be one less hick to mess everything else up.

"As much as I'd love that, I don't think Coach or Rochelle would approve," Nick said, grinning. After a few moments of silence, his smile fell and he looked slightly frustrated. "You aren't kidding, are you? Shit… Ellis, are you a dumbass? You'll die here. You may have some weapons to last you a few days, but eventually you'll starve or they'll get to you or something. We kind of… really need you. You know your weapons, and you know how to navigate, and you're not weak in mind, body, or spirit. Hell, I'll even admit that, once in a while, you can tell a good story. And do you really think any of us are just going to walk out of here without you? We four? We're a team now. Slightly to my dismay at first, but not anymore. I'd be dead multiple times if it weren't for you and the others. So would you, so would Coach, so would Rochelle. You're coming with whether you want to or not."

Ellis couldn't help but smile. "That's the nicest thing you have ever said, Nick. Least t' me."

Nick paused, thinking. "Nah, it's just the nicest thing I've said. Ever. Wanna shoot me? Know it's hard to believe, I might actually have a heart!"

The hick grinned, glad to hear that he wasn't totally useless. He was pretty sure he'd saved a few lives, and that made it better. It almost made the whole thing worth it; before the infection, he hadn't had too many exciting or redeeming qualities. He worked as a mechanic who did weird and generally stupid shit with his fellow hick friends. It was as if now he had more to live for then he ever had before.

He wasn't sure if Nick knew what he said had made him come to that conclusion. He'd keep it to himself, though; the conman would kill himself if he knew how nice he'd just been.

Nick wandered over and sat on the floor next to Ellis. Neither of them said anything, but instead just sat and listened to it rain outside. Upstairs he could hear Rochelle and Coach talking lightly. Ellis held his hand against his wound, but it almost seemed like the pain was easing. He knew they'd have to go back out there, go through the same thing all over again. For the first time, though, he was starting to think that it was worth it.


End file.
